Page 43 of Nitro

"See? They'll be fine," Greed said with a dismissive wave.

Micah, however, shot him a reproachful glance before turning back to me.

"Take care of him, Nitro," Micah urged. “I’ll check in on him in a few days.”

“I will. Thanks, Micah,” I said.

It took some effort, but I finally managed to drag Spike's unconscious, grizzly form back to his room at the MC clubhouse.

The weight of his massive body made the task challenging, and I cursed and grunted the entire way.

Spike remained in a deep slumber, completely unresponsive to the world around him. The fight had taken its toll on him.

I was careful with him, not wanting to reopen any of the injuries Micah had taken care of.

The hallway leading to Spike's room seemed longer than usual. I focused on the task at hand, determined to get him to the safety and familiarity of his own den.

As we reached his room, I carefully maneuvered Spike onto the bed. With a deep exhale, I stepped back, surveying my best friend.

To my annoyance, Spike suddenly shifted back to his human form.

I couldn't help but grumble internally—why couldn't he have done this transformation earlier when he was still outside?

Maneuvering a full-grown grizzly through the clubhouse was no easy feat.

Spike groaned, probably exhausted from the shift. He finally opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of unconsciousness.

Spike gasped, uttering a single word, "water."

I hurried to the nearby sink, filling a glass with water and bringing it back to Spike.

Handing him the glass, I watched as he took a few slow sips.

"Easy there," I said. "You took quite a beating."

"Tell me, Nitro. Did I make an ass of myself?" Spike asked, sounding a little pathetic.

I hesitated, considering my response.

Spike was clearly feeling sorry for himself, and I decided it might be best not to fuel that self-deprecating fire.

Instead of answering, I remained silent, letting the question linger in the air. Spike probably took my silence as an answer in itself.

"Say, did you manage to get back to Tommy last night?" Spike inquired, shifting the focus away from his own predicament.

I took a seat on a nearby armchair, sensing that we might be steering clear of the topic of the fight, at least for now.

"Yeah," I responded. I couldn’t help but smile. "He had an episode, but it's fine now. We're hooking up later."

Spike let out a low whistle, and I couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction.

"I meant, we're going on another date," I clarified, amused by the misinterpretation.

"That's great," Spike said, a genuine smile touching his lips as he settled against his pillows.

Spike added, “Don't let that one slip from your fingers, Nitro. He's a good one."

"Don't I know it," I murmured.

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